Jyn's floating in a strange purgatory between sleep and wakefulness, comforted by the warmth and undeniable security of Cassian's arms. They cradle her, make her soft, make her feel things she's never before felt, either by forced circumstances or by choice. The slow, steady drum of his heart against her back, marching in time with hers, feels like a lullaby - reverberating deep within in her, bringing her back to the last time she'd ever felt a modicum of safety - back on Coruscant.
But when his voice fills the air, the words gathering in a fog around them, it stirs her back to the land of the living. Her eyes flutter open, wanting no part of her to be absent from listening to the delicate sound of his heart opening to her. Allowing her entrance.
How little they knew of each other, yet how connected ..
She'd expected perhaps a story about his family - she'd assumed he'd had no siblings, but he had to have had parents at some point in his life - and so she'd mistakenly expected for him to perhaps share some distant, far off memory about one or both of them.
But as the words tumble, adding to the cloud which surrounds them, she realizes that the story will be different.
Very different.
There's a buzzing in her chest as she realizes what it is that he's sharing - not only for the sheer vulnerability and intensity of it, but for the content, as well. The buzzing grows into a vague roar as she realizes the discrepancies in their first experiences - how acutely unfair it was for his to be due to a gamble, as though he were nothing more than a thing to be toyed, played with.
As though he were not a person, full of choices and desires of his own.
As though such a thing were nothing more than a handful of Credits.
There is a jealousy underlying all of the buzzing, of course - how could there not be, however ill-outlined? But she knows she has no claim on the feeling, has no claim on who or with whom he'd been in the past. She barely feels as though she has claim on him at all, in any form or way - constantly in a state of terror that he'll ask her to leave is evident of that.
When he stops, she pulls his arms tighter - turns her head to kiss the edge of his jaw. She won't force him to tell her if he'd rather not - there's nothing good to come out of that - but she'll offer him the opportunity.
"You were .. ? -" her words cut off by his whisper. She shifts, allows herself to turn towards him as much as she can in the confines of the tub. Brings her hand to his face, finds his eyes in the dark. "I won't make you tell me; I never want -" she pauses, finding her words, "I never want it to be demanded, between us .. forced. I respect your privacy." Her thumb runs over his lips. "But please don't assume what I want and don't want from you; I want to know everything you want to tell me. Doesn't matter what. I want to know."
ohhhhh the spectrum squadron ._.
But when his voice fills the air, the words gathering in a fog around them, it stirs her back to the land of the living. Her eyes flutter open, wanting no part of her to be absent from listening to the delicate sound of his heart opening to her. Allowing her entrance.
How little they knew of each other, yet how connected ..
She'd expected perhaps a story about his family - she'd assumed he'd had no siblings, but he had to have had parents at some point in his life - and so she'd mistakenly expected for him to perhaps share some distant, far off memory about one or both of them.
But as the words tumble, adding to the cloud which surrounds them, she realizes that the story will be different.
Very different.
There's a buzzing in her chest as she realizes what it is that he's sharing - not only for the sheer vulnerability and intensity of it, but for the content, as well. The buzzing grows into a vague roar as she realizes the discrepancies in their first experiences - how acutely unfair it was for his to be due to a gamble, as though he were nothing more than a thing to be toyed, played with.
As though he were not a person, full of choices and desires of his own.
As though such a thing were nothing more than a handful of Credits.
There is a jealousy underlying all of the buzzing, of course - how could there not be, however ill-outlined? But she knows she has no claim on the feeling, has no claim on who or with whom he'd been in the past. She barely feels as though she has claim on him at all, in any form or way - constantly in a state of terror that he'll ask her to leave is evident of that.
When he stops, she pulls his arms tighter - turns her head to kiss the edge of his jaw. She won't force him to tell her if he'd rather not - there's nothing good to come out of that - but she'll offer him the opportunity.
"You were .. ? -" her words cut off by his whisper. She shifts, allows herself to turn towards him as much as she can in the confines of the tub. Brings her hand to his face, finds his eyes in the dark. "I won't make you tell me; I never want -" she pauses, finding her words, "I never want it to be demanded, between us .. forced. I respect your privacy." Her thumb runs over his lips. "But please don't assume what I want and don't want from you; I want to know everything you want to tell me. Doesn't matter what. I want to know."